


Four Funerals and a Wedding

by Kerichi



Series: Draco and Astoria [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Firewhiskey, Lipstick, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8339065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerichi/pseuds/Kerichi
Summary: Some romances begin with eyes meeting across a crowded room. Draco and Astoria's began with a conversation at a funeral.





	

The rows of chairs were filled with pure-bloods, most of whom were no relation to the boy whose ashes waited to be interred. Funerals were the new soirees. Everyone dressed in tasteful finery, queuing up to see and be seen. Draco Malfoy sat beside a tomb on the hillside; close enough to view the proceedings and far enough removed not to hear the various flirtations, stealthy business dealings or false words of regret over Vincent Crabbe's death.

He lifted his flask in a silent toast and took a drink.

"Is that Firewhiskey? I've always wanted to try it." The speaker was a blonde girl who wore funeral robes and bright red lipstick. It was the paleness of her skin that made colour of her mouth stand out, he told himself. Not the fullness of her lips. She sat down an arm's-distance away and held out a slender hand. "May I?"

Draco handed over the flask, idly noting that she wore no jewellery.

"I'm of age, in case you wondered," she said before taking a gulp of Firewhiskey. Her jade green eyes opened wide. Splotches of pink stood out on her cheekbones. She asked, "Is it supposed to burn?"

He conjured a goblet of water. She emptied it with impressive speed.

"Thank you," she said. "That took the edge off." She took a more cautious sip of Firewhiskey and returned his flask. "I came up here to see the flowers better. That's an exquisite standing spray, isn't it?"

Draco glanced at the arrangement of poppies and other flowers he didn't bother to identify. "I suppose."

The girl smiled ruefully. "Serves me right, fishing for compliments. I arranged the flowers."

"You're a florist trainee?" Not that he cared.

She shook her head. "Just a hobby."

Something didn't add up. "Are you related to the Crabbes?"

"No, I'm Astoria Greengrass."

"Daphne's sister." If she was seventeen, she'd had a recent birthday. He frowned. "Were you friends with Vincent?"

Her lips twisted. "I don't think he was capable of real friendship, or any other emotion that wasn't cruel and dark." Her gaze shifted. "The Ministry officiant is giving the eulogy. It's fitting to see him mouthing words. They're meaningless, after all. No one but Crabbe's mother believes his death was a tragic loss to the Wizarding world."

"You hated him." He had tried to hate Vincent, too, when he'd shown his true colours.

_You an' yer dad are finished!_

In the end, Draco had only hated himself: a terrified puppet without humanity or compassion. A fool. "It doesn't make sense," he said. "Why waste your time creating an arrangement of flowers?"

Astoria leaned closer. "It's my eternal tribute. Red poppies to remember the dead. Lobelia for malevolence. Fungus to symbolise disgust, and Eglantine roses for wounds to heal."

Draco stared. What had Vincent done to her? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a white origami bird flapping toward him. He caught it in a fist.

"You're being summoned?"

"As always." He remembered his manners. "May I escort you to your parents?"

"Stars, no. I want to stay here and drink your Firewhiskey." Astoria's lips curved. "I'll give back your flask at the next funeral."

He said, "Refill it with Ogden's Finest."

 

The next memorial took place at a London wizard cemetery located uncomfortably close to the one occupied by Muggle dead. Draco stood apart from those gathered to watch magic create a tomb around Harold Lithgow, killed by Harry Potter's Blasting Curse.

Astoria Greengrass walked over to join him. "Your flask as promised." Her lipstick was a brazen berry colour.

He noticed that she didn't wear nail varnish, and her fingernails were a nicely manicured, yet practical length. "You didn't arrange the flowers."

"I didn't know Gabriel's father was a Death Eater. The family's absolutely gutted." She opened the flask and drank a ladylike swig. "Gabriel was never mean like some of the others in our House. I hope that doesn't change."

"Why, do you fancy him?"

Astoria's eyes danced. "Sadly, I prefer older men who tend not to notice younger women."

Draco appraised her elegant figure. "You're noticeable."

"Why, thank you." She took two more small sips of Firewhiskey. "At school, I wished I was invisible." She turned her gaze to the mourners. "Professor Carrow punished students who didn't show enthusiasm for Dark Arts."

"The  _Cruciatus Curse_?" Draco had a scar on his chest as a permanent reminder of his first attempt to cast a Torture Curse. It still ached from time to time. "Did Vincent—" A wailing moan sounded behind them. Draco almost jumped out of his skin. "Muggles and their damned graves. If one of those zimbies staggers over here looking for brains, I know a curse to chop it to pieces."

If he'd expected Astoria to be impressed, he was disappointed. Her eyes laughed. "It's zombies," she said. "But you acknowledge that Muggles have brains. That's a start."

"Of what?"

"Of recognising that they're human beings like you and me." She raised the flask. "I think I'll keep this a little longer." She strolled away.

 

Draco made a bit more effort to look presentable when his father announced that their presence was required at the funeral of Gemma Farley. He rationalised that it was because Farley had welcomed him to Slytherin House when he was a first year, and he regretted that she'd died in battle. He didn't get a haircut and buy new robes to impress Astoria Greengrass. If he scanned the crowd gathered beside the reflection pool on the Farley estate, it was merely to acknowledge Gemma's popularity. His gaze slid past a brown haired girl. She said, "Looking for someone?"

His eyebrows rose. "What have you done to yourself?" Not that she wasn't . . . noticeable . . . with hair the colour of milk chocolate, but her natural shade suited her more. Her lipstick was a glossy shade of plum.

She said, "It's a Dye for a Day Charm. Don't you like dark hair? Or did Parkinson put you off brunettes for life?"

"It wasn't her hair that put me off," he said before he caught himself. His breakup with Pansy was none of Astoria's concern. "Where's my flask?"

"Confiscated. Mum searched my room while I was out shopping and found your flask in my lingerie chest."

The mental image disturbed him. "Why did you put it there?"

"She's never rummaged through my lacy bits before." While he was trying not to picture Astoria wearing lace knickers, she added, "I blame Daphne. She's been sneaking around with Michael Corner and now I'm under suspicion too."

"Corner? The half-blood?"

"The  _Ravenclaw_  who saved a first year."

"Yes, I heard about him. He's a half-blood."

Astoria narrowed her eyes. "He's the  _Ravenclaw_ who was tortured for freeing a little girl, an act of chivalry that melted my sister's icy heart."

"Ah. That Michael Corner. The Ravenclaw."

She gave him a pleased smile.

He asked, "Did Vincent torture you for helping someone, or for not excelling in Dark Arts? Is that why you chose those flowers?"

Her smile wobbled. "Today's been so lovely. Let's not spoil it."

Draco extended his arm, feeling awkwardly chivalrous. "May I escort you to your parents?"

Astoria laid her hand on his sleeve. "I'd like that very much."

 

Lucius declared the next four funerals on the Slytherin social calendar not elevated enough to merit their attendance. Snatchers, in general, had been unsavoury personages, and those of higher rank who had joined them were sullied by the association. The irony of his father's views, when their own name was permanently tainted by their allegiance to the most evil wizard of all time provided Draco with moments of appropriately black humour. He wondered if the Greengrass family would also avoid Snatcher funerals. A scan of the short article listing those in attendance at Scabior's memorial service in the Knights of Walpurgis owned  _Knightly News_  indicated that they, too, had decided not to go.

The only regret he had about missing the funerals was not getting his flask back. It was a family heirloom, once belonging to Armand Malfoy, the ancestor who had bewitched the Muggle King into granting him the land on which to build Malfoy Manor. Not that old Armand would be offended if a pretty girl wrapped his flask in her lingerie. He was French, after all. But what if Astoria's mother didn't return it to her daughter after pouring out the Firewhiskey? What if she threw it away? Draco decided to send an owl. He instantly changed his mind. Astoria might get the wrong idea; take a note as an indication of personal interest. Anyone bold enough to wear outrageous lipstick would be bold enough to make romantic advances given the slightest encouragement.

Once the thought entered his mind, it clung like a Venemous Tentacula. Draco visualised endless scenarios that led to Astoria throwing her arms around him and pressing her lips to his. His imagination was limited on what she would do next. He and Pansy had rarely kissed. They'd never deeply snogged. She considered any exchange of bodily fluids disgusting. On patrol, she sneered at the couples they caught French-kissing. Her way of demonstrating affection was to stroke Draco's hair. He'd always enjoyed the relaxing sensation.

He pictured himself lying on a sofa with his head on Astoria's lap. Instead of petting him like her favourite dog, she thrust her fingers into his hair, clenching tight as she leaned down, scarlet lips parting to reveal the tip of her tongue.

"Stop daydreaming like a girl and look at me when I'm speaking to you," his father said.

Draco snapped back to reality _. Dinner. Mother and Father discussing Aunt Bellatrix's funeral. A discreet ceremony, no press announcement._  "Yes, sir," he replied. "I was wondering who would attend."

"Any particular name you'd care to see on the guest list?" his father asked silkily.

He shouldn't encourage his parents to start dreaming of pure-blooded grandchildren. "The Greengrass family," he said.

He was rewarded with one of Lucius Malfoy's rare approving smiles. "Consider it done."

 

Aunt Bellatrix's "antics," as Mother called them, relegated her tomb to the far corner of Salazar Cemetery. Only the victorious dead were honoured by Slytherins. After this day, her name would never be mentioned in pure-blood society. Draco vowed to tell his children about her, the good as well as the bad. She had loved him, in her way. He wouldn't forget her.

Astoria Greengrass stood with her family behind the small group who had fled the battle to avoid capture. Her face was pale. He made his way to her once the ceremony was over.

"You're not wearing lipstick," he said. Her lips were soft pink.

"I wanted to respect your loss." Her eyes searched his. "Are you all right?"

Mr. Greengrass cleared his throat. Portly and ruddy cheeked, he looked nothing like his daughter. "Tell Lucius I'll owl his Head of Property about the warehouses I wish to sell." He added, like an afterthought, "My condolences."

 _Did I really expect Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass to attend out of sympathy?_  Draco said, "Thank you."

Mrs. Greengrass was a thin, long-faced witch. Astoria was fortunate not to resemble her either. "Give our regards to your family," Mrs. Greengrass said. "We must be going." Her voice sharpened. "Come along, Astoria."

"Daphne's ill," Astoria said quickly, "or she'd be here too."

Nice to know he hadn't been shunned. He and Daphne weren't friends, but they'd been in the same year. He said, "Give her my regards."

"I will."

It didn't occur to Draco until Stevens refilled his wine glass at dinner that Astoria hadn't mentioned his flask. He asked to be excused and went straight to the owlery. He sent Bubo off with a note.

 

He was tossing and turning in bed when Bubo's talons scratched at his window. He eagerly unrolled the tiny scroll.

**Don't worry, I stole back the flask. It's safe. I must admit, however, to admiring its craftsmanship so much that I now require payment to give it back.**

Draco fumed until he read:

**Tomorrow afternoon, my parents are hosting a small reception for Daphne and Michael Corner, who were wed last week at the Ministry.**

There had been no announcement in the paper, and couples who rushed to the Ministry to wed were likely to submit birth announcements to the  _Prophet_  within the next nine months. Astoria had said Daphne was ill. Was she pregnant? Her parents must be livid. Corner was a half— Draco caught himself. Corner was a Ravenclaw. He read the last lines of Astoria's note.

**If you attend the reception as my guest, I will return the flask.**

It took a few seconds for the true meaning of the words to sink in. The flask was a pretext. Astoria was asking him to be her date.

 

He stepped out of the Greengrass Floo precisely at four o'clock. No one appreciated an early guest, his parents always said. Astoria was waiting. She dusted Floo powder off his robes. "I like you in grey," she said. "It matches your eyes."

Her tea-length gown was a shade of pink that almost matched her lips. He asked, "Why aren't you wearing lipstick this time? Are your parents in mourning?"

Astoria giggled. "They act like it." She said almost shyly, "I was going to wear fuchsia, but Mother made me wipe it off." She took his hand and led him out of parlour and across the corridor to the library. "Father only comes in here to smoke cigars. We can talk without guests popping out of the Floo every other minute." She sat on a leather settee and continued to hold his hand as he sat beside her. "I'm glad you came."

Her skin was warm. Or maybe he was warm. "The other guests might not feel the same way."

"I don't care."

Warm. It was definitely warm in the library, bordering on hot. He tried to lighten the mood. "Did you cast a Disillusionment Charm on my flask, or is it hidden somewhere I can't see?"

Only her mouth smiled. "Are you asking me to lift my skirts?"

His hand tightened around hers, an instinctive reaction he tried to apologise for, but she shook her head. "I was trying to tease you back. I don't have your flask strapped to my thigh. I want to show you something—not my lacy bits—that will answer your question about Crabbe." Astoria drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "Professor Carrow ordered me to cast a Cruciatus Curse on a student who had detention. I was so scared, if the boy had been a seventh-year I would have done it, but he was a second-year, and he was crying."

"You couldn't do it."

"Crabbe was there, supervising. He offered to let the boy go if I allowed him to practise the charm Carrow used on Neville Longbottom."

"On the boy?"

"On me." Her features tightened with remembered pain. "I begged him not to cut my face, so he made me take off my robes and hike my skirt." Draco sat frozen while Astoria pulled her skirts up to show him the jagged silvery line that marred her thigh. "Madam Pomfrey had run through her supply of dittany. She couldn't prevent a scar."

_Eglantine roses for wounds to heal._

"It only makes you more beautiful." Draco could feel himself flushing. "I mean because you were brave and strong. Not because I fancy scars, although yours is much prettier than any of mine." He saw the direction of her gaze and shook his head. "Don't ask."

Her eyes were smiling again. "You're not the kind of boy who shows his scars on the first date?"

"No."

Astoria smoothed down her skirt with her free hand and gently squeezed his fingers and let them go. "I'll retrieve your flask."

"Keep it," he said. "At least until our second date."

Her face lit up. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Draco sighed when her fingers slid into his hair, and her mouth parted to deepen the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, the title should have been Four Funerals and a Wedding Reception, but I was paying homage to the film Four Weddings and a Funeral, with funerals taking centre stage because the story takes place right after the Battle of Hogwarts, when there were many more pure-blood funerals than weddings. I took the liberty of using the Crabbe quote from HBP and made the father of a known Slytherin, Gabriel Lithgow, as well as Gemma Farley, die the deaths of unknown Death Eaters in DH. It's funny, before I ever knew Tom Felton's girlfriend who played Astoria in DH2 was named Jade, I'd given the adult Astoria jade coloured eyes in the parent Draco/Astoria one shot Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place. Since I find it hard to believe Scorpius would look just like his father if his mother was a brunette (her appearance isn't mentioned in the epilogue), I choose to say she had dark hair in the film due to a Dye for a Day Charm. ;)


End file.
